


Lessons Learned

by badritual



Series: Hero Worship [2]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Injury, Leadership, Male Friendship, Season-Ending Injury, passing of the torch, the author is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 17:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14919953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/pseuds/badritual
Summary: “You show ’em how you do. They learn from you.”





	Lessons Learned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blastellanos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/gifts).



> Technically a follow-up to [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/956222).
> 
> Some of the dialogue was pulled from a post-game interview Nick did.

Nick pops into the trainer’s office to find Miggy sitting on one of those metal training tables, glaring at his injured arm like it personally offended him. His jersey’s off, draped over one knee, and his navy compression sleeve is hanging over the other one.

“Hey,” Nick calls out to him.

Miggy’s head snaps up. His eyes look almost _hollow_ , like he got the worst news imaginable, and Nick feels his stomach sinking like a stone as he steps into the little room and closes the door gently behind him.   

“Hey,” Miggy says.

“You get good news?” Nick asks, feeling stupidly hopeful as he pulls an empty chair over to Miggy’s side. He folds into it, tucking his arms across his chest. “Talk to me, bro.”

Miggy lifts his shoulder in a shrug and Nick doesn’t miss how carefully he holds his arm, the one he hurt taking a swing. When he peers closer, he can see it’s swollen.

“I dunno man,” he says. Miggy waves his hand in the air over his arm, unhappily. “I feel a pop. When it happen.”

“Aw, shit,” Nick breathes out. Feels like he just took a fastball to the ribs and all the air’s been socked from his lungs. “That ain’t good.”

“I know.” Miggy slumps on the training table, the paper crinkling underneath him. “Get the test back. Then we gonna know how long.”

Nick leans in and squeezes Miggy’s shoulder, gently. “I’m with you, buddy.”

Miggy flicks his eyes over Nick and he watches as the sadness and despair funnel out like sands in an hourglass, until that keen, familiar predatorial glint lights them up again.

“You the man now, Nicky. This your team.” Miggy clips Nick on the shoulder.

“Aw, man, I can’t—” Nick shakes his head and puts his hands up, but Miggy thumps him lightly in the chest with his fist.

“I remember when you just some kid,” he says, dropping his fist. “You all skinny, your jersey don’t fit right. But I see you and I think, ‘He gonna be the one. When I ain’t here no more he gonna be the one.’ ”

“You’ll be back next year,” Nick insists, feeling vaguely uneasy, his stomach starting to tumble. “This isn’t my team.”

Miggy’s brows draw together and his forehead crinkles, eyes narrowing in on Nick like he’s looking straight into the center of his soul. “I ain’t gonna be here. This your team,” he repeats, giving Nick another thump on the chest. “You show ’em how you do. They learn from you.”

Nick gets a flash of a memory that dances on the edges of his recollection. “Like I learned from you,” he says, warming up to the idea a little.

“Then I come back next year,” Miggy adds, grinning, showing Nick his teeth. “And then it’s my team again.”

Nick laughs a little and reaches out, catching Miggy’s good hand in his own, squeezing. Miggy squeezes back.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
